


Beautiful Disaster

by cxhztile



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: (because i'm too lazy to perfectly convey procedures bro), (can't have bill & ted without it), (just a tw for yall), Ambiguous Relationships, Announcements, Day At The Beach, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey, Sick Character, Thanksgiving Dinner, Time Travel, Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vomiting, at least deacon's supportive, captain logan's guide to shitty parenting 101
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29886735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxhztile/pseuds/cxhztile
Summary: Prequel to"The Rough Nights Ain't Leaving"
Relationships: Ted "Theodore" Logan/Bill S. Preston Esq.
Kudos: 9





	1. Homebrew / Sunset in July

**Author's Note:**

> ok here's hoping i don't delete this before i write and post a second chapter... anyway, the brain worms were Feasting with that first ficlet and i have no life so i decided to do my best to put all of my ideas for a prequel (and there are many) into a fic of their own. if you think this first chapter is rough, it's only going to go downhill from here— if i even finish. also, i'm a little Insane so the work title is from [a 311 song of the same name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXHqG_xuRUA) and the chapters will likely have dual song title names, like this one being [homebrew](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gy5sb5ImZQM) / [sunset in july](https://youtu.be/1P2YSktr7xU), for the two different dates in the timeline that i'm going to attempt to shove into one chapter

**— 4 July 1995 —**

“I can’t believe this, man. This is so _bogus_.” Ted grumbled, twisting the cap off their bottle of Colt 45 and taking a big swig, only to suck too much in and need to cough into his elbow as he handed it off.

“I told you not to get a forty-ounce, dude,” Bill shook his head, gently jumping into the open back of their van and taking a small sip himself, “It could be worse, though.” 

“ _Worse_? They chose a 311 wannabe band over _Wyld Stallyns_? What could be more _heinous_?” 

Bill just raised his eyebrows and blinked a few times while he took another sip of their malt liquor. It was the 4th of July and they had just been last minute laid off for playing a local concert— although, they had just been a back-up band for the opening line up, anyway, so it wasn’t as big of a disappointment as Ted was making it out to be. But, Bill understood his frustration, given that it had been a while since they had gotten to play a gig, their invitations having dwindled since the Battle of the Bands a few years back. Normally, he would have been just as tense but between the alcohol and anticipation of the impending fireworks show, he was quite chill and not feeling incredibly bothered by it at the moment. 

“Ted, my _esteemed_ colleague, we have 311’s latest album in our passenger seat.” He finally said, lowering one brow as he made eye contact. 

“Yeah, but,” Ted flustered at the realization, turning his head over his shoulder to look at the van’s carpet instead of Bill, blindly grabbing for their bottle, “We’re still the epitome of rock… They should have let us play.” 

“I know, it’s most non-non- _non_ -triumphant. But at least we can watch the fireworks from here instead of the stage.” Bill reassured him, pulling both of his knees to his chest. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Ted sighed, crawling in beside him and sitting down with barely an inch between them. 

Sure, it wasn’t the _first_ time Ted had sat down so close to him— it was probably the _millionth_ — but they weren’t very heavy drinkers by any means so he was already getting a little buzzed, making him hyper-aware of the lack of space between them and the heat lingering in it, making something odd rest just below his gut that he couldn’t quite name. Putting it out of mind, he turned his attention towards the darkened sky, patiently waiting for the colorful pyrotechnics to begin so that he didn’t have to think about... _Whatever_ he was feeling. Unfortunately, it was difficult _not_ to as Ted leaned back on his hands, bringing their shoulders closer together than they had been, and his face was being lit with vibrant flashing colors from beyond, greens and purples and yellows twinkling against his dark eyes, as if different colored stars lived there. It didn’t help either when Ted would glance over at him every ten minutes or so with a toothy grin, slightly grown out bangs half hanging in front of his face and his old letterman nearly hanging off of his shoulders. Perhaps it was just the alcohol, but everything all at once was making Bill’s head start to swim and, frankly, the bursting lights were making him a little nauseous now. 

Easing himself onto his back, and not caring much that there wasn’t going to be a pillow beneath him, he laid out flat, save folding his hands behind his head, blinking at the inky ceiling inside the van, hoping it would turn into a deep space vacuum and suck away all of his thoughts or something. However, to his dismay, it _didn’t_ happen and instead, Ted laid down on his side, head resting in the palm of his propped up elbow, a smile still painted across his lips, despite being confused as to what Bill was up to in his head. Bill, temporarily ignoring him so he didn’t do anything stupid, swallowed thickly, finally acknowledging how pink with blush his face was and feeling it only heat up more as his mind remained in the gutter. Unable to shove it down any longer, he allowed himself to roll onto his side facing Ted, his hesitation leading Ted to raise _his_ eyebrows and open his mouth to question what was going on, only for it to shut as Bill’s hand cupped the nape of his neck and their lips tenderly met. Ted froze for a second, processing what was happening, before his hand settled on Bill’s hip, thumb rubbing a patch of exposed skin as he attempted to lay him on his back again. 

He paused for a moment when he noticed that Bill’s breath had hitched in his throat, pulling back to look him over and make sure he was alright. Bill’s eyes were a bright mix of blue and green, pupils blown and staring at him as if he was the center of the universe, earning a chuckle from Ted because it was, admittedly, a good look on him. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, Ted leaned back in to kiss him again, free hand threading into golden curls, _very_ willing to indulge him with something that would take both their minds off their music troubles and the nauseating bursts of light outside. 

**— 29 July 1995 —**

The morning after the Independence Day _fiasco_ , neither of them dared to discuss the fact that they woke up with searing headaches while entangled in each other’s bare limbs, nor did they choose to discuss it any time in the following weeks. Thankfully, things stayed relatively normal and amicable, no tension boring through them because of that night, and they quickly went back to focusing on the more regular parts of their lives, like throwing away several hours to brainstorm new songs and watching horror movies while totally _not_ holding hands so Bill had something to grip whenever he got spooked. Everything was pretty much the same as it had been… Other than Bill feeling a little off a few weeks later. The day was beginning just as it typically did, waking up at half past nine to make sure he took his first dosage of Andriol on time, only today he found, through bleary eyes, there was the tiniest bit of blood stained on his boxers, as if it was his pre-T days all over again. Groaning, he took his pill and attended to the stain, refusing to recognize the accompanying streak of pain in his abdomen. 

Most of his brain wanted to write it off as a back pain from their terrible mattresses shooting to the front or soreness from hunching over the day before with his guitar in his lap, but some small part of him was daring to sift for the hazy memory of two weeks past, something he barely remembered to begin with but had since repressed further. Despite not having much energy to do so, he popped into the shower, appalled by how greasy his hair was and hoping the warmth of using hot water would soothe the minor cramp so he didn’t need to dig through their medicine cabinet for ibuprofen. Much to his chagrin, it didn’t completely dissipate but at least it was more manageable now and his sopping wet mop of hair smelt of coconut (thanks Herbal Essences). Ted was still fast asleep, long limbs sprawled out across his twin bed, causing Bill to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t laugh as he searched the floor on his side of the room for any item of clean clothing to throw on. Eventually, he found one of his cropped t-shirts, black and fitted with the wrench logo from _72826_ , and navy basketball shorts, wanting to be able to air himself out if their A/C unit busted like it always did and the July heat seeped into their apartment.

Scrubbing the lingering water from his hair after throwing on the mismatched outfit, he hung his towel on the rack on the inside of the bathroom door, only sparing a swift glance at his reflection in the mirror, and strolled to the kitchen to scavenge for something to make for breakfast, bemoaning the fact that they needed to go grocery shopping soon. Apparently, Ted had eaten the last of their Captain Crunch during the week and the box of Eggos in the freezer was teetering on expiration, so he fussed as he continued to rifle through their cabinets for anything palatable until he came across a box of just barely usable pancake mix, having to stand on his tiptoes to reach it and temporarily making his cramp worse by stretching the muscle out so far. However, he paid it no mind because now he was focused on seeking out milk, oil, and a non-rotten egg so that they could feast on pancakes this glorious Saturday morning. His first few were a little burnt and wonky-shaped because he kept vaguely zoning out as they cooked but he knew that Ted would appreciate them nonetheless. 

Speaking of whom, the rustling coming from the bedroom cued Bill to lean forward where he had his back against the kitchen counter and peer into the living room to witness a dazed and confused Ted with the most egregious case of bedhead and his shirt pulled mainly to one side. His eyes were barely open, heavily laden with sleep, and he stopped a few steps outside of the doorway as if he knew he was seconds from bumping into the couch. Bill, arms crossed against his chest, furrowed his eyebrows pondering what he was going to do next yet quietly snickering to himself because Ted was looking like the physical embodiment of tired. 

“Bill?” Ted finally called out, voice halfway between a whisper and a shout but quite flat for either tone.

“In here, dude.” Bill answered, straightening up after one of Ted’s eyes open to scan for him. 

Upon entering the kitchen, Ted slotted his arms around him, bending to press his face into Bill’s shoulder, apparently having no cares about their difference in height. Bill was startled by the sudden embrace but slowly returned the favor since he seemed upset about something, and Ted was the only person he felt comfortable with giving and receiving physical affection from. Ted was silent for a minute, mulling over how to explain it, so Bill just raked dark hairs out of his face until he came up with an adequate description.

“I had the most _atrocious_ of dreams,” Ted started, voice slightly muffled by Bill’s shirt, “Wyld Stallyns tanked, they tore down the Circle K, and Deacon died _all on the same day_.”

“That _is_ atrocious,” Bill agreed with a nod, stroking one last lock of hair behind Ted’s ear, “But don’t worry about it too much, dude. None of them are happening any time soon.”

He could feel Ted smile against his shoulder and begin to reel back, eyelashes fluttering as he got a proper look at his clean-scented companion. His hands rested on Bill’s hips— just as they had weeks before— and he faltered for a moment, ears burning because of Bill’s hands staying in place near his neck, but he inevitably bowed to gingerly give him a peck on the lips. Once again, neither endeavored to contest this newfound territory between them, nor query what it was exactly. Instead, Bill cupped the side of his face as they remained pressed together and tenderly stroked his cheek with his thumb, only plucking himself away when he caught a waft of the severing burning of the last pancake. Luckily, Ted just sneered putting their foreheads together before he stepped back to let Bill deal with the breakfast mishap, waving off any of Bill’s concerns about not having any syrup and beckoning him to the couch. He sat on the middlemost cushion and turned on the television, not really bothering to change the channel since they actually enjoyed Saturday morning cartoons like Animaniacs still, gesturing a full-handed Bill to sit next to him and swinging Bill’s feet into his lap once he had. 

Temptation arose in the very back of his mind to tickle them but he wasn’t in the mood to get kicked in the face right now, or worse, having his plate spun in the air and his pancakes dropped on the floor (although he’d probably eat them anyway). So he decided against the plot, now tuned into the way Bill was laying his head on his shoulder, feeling the movement of his jaw as he chewed big bites of his food, curls splayed out on his shirt and richly standing out against its red color. There was a pang in his chest as he continued to watch his best friend, The Cure’s “Lovesong” echoing in the recesses of his skull like he was hearing it through the speakers rather than the Warner siblings’ shenanigans. It took a few minutes for Bill to even discern he was being gawked at and absentmindedly licked his lips in bewilderment. 

“Bill, did you know that you are the best?” Ted asked softly, kissing the top of his head. 

“Shut up, Ted…” Bill mumbed in return, scooting further into his personal bubble. 


	2. I'll Be Here Awhile / Head Over Heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! Something's up with Bill and the mystery just won't go away. At least Ted's there to support him :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told yall it was only going to go downhill from here and it's about to. also i lied on the title thing because. ["i'll be here awhile"](https://youtu.be/8Mpe4hdOhSU) is in fact a 311 song but i had to put in ["head over heels"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYx8IHJ9dWE) simply because i made a tears for fears reference in the second half.

**— 21 August 1995 —**

Much to Bill’s discontent, his short period of feeling under the weather did not hasten— in fact, it only got _worse_. His emotional regularity was typically pretty alright, most of the time landing on the calmer side of the spectrum, but now his moods were changing on the draw and, frankly, it was quite terrifying. For instance, he nearly lost his cool over Albertsons not having their favorite flavor of Poptarts in stock and that same afternoon he teared up a little while folding a basket of laundry, having no explanation for either overwhelming moment of emotion. Another new occurrence he couldn’t say he was very fond of was being more sensitive to smells, oftentimes catching a whiff of things before Ted even realized they were there, leaving him with a headache for a while afterward. Not to mention, he was beginning to feel exhausted all of the time, even if all he did that day was test-write some new songs and chords for the band or work a short shift at the mall, gradually going to bed earlier and earlier and even taking naps in the middle of the day with his head of Ted’s shoulder.

But, the worst had yet to come, when he woke up so nauseous during the third week of August that he felt like he was going to throw up all of his organs. Thankfully, he _didn’t_ throw up at all in that week but it took 480 milliliters of Pepto Bismol over the first two days and a mountain of sheer willpower to not do so. Most of his day in that stint was spent with his head in Ted’s lap while curling up in the softest blanket they owned— given that they both assumed it was just a minor stomach bug that he was struggling to get over— and satiated any remaining nausea between his miniscule portions of carb-filled meals like sandwiches and crackers by downing some ginger ale and water. The excessive fluids created a predicament where he had to get up every hour or so to use the bathroom, but it was a good enough tradeoff for keeping his stomach fairly at bay and not needing to use the trash can being kept at the foot of the sofa that he just dealt with it. Once in a while, Ted would lean down to kiss his cheek and ask if he needed anything, sitting back and beginning to run his fingers through Bill’s curls again once he was assured that everything was alright. 

Bill’s haze greatly diminished after that rough patch, and although he was still experiencing nausea more than he had at any point in the past, he was a little more equipped to handle it now, especially with his best-friend-slash-practically-boyfriend being there to take care of him— and yes, he was pretty the warm feeling in his ribcage even _thinking_ about Ted was some sort of heart flutter or whatever, not more bile biting at his esophagus. The meager amount of bloating that was the nausea’s consort was equally detestable but he would just have to deal with it since they didn’t exactly have the time or money right now to figure out what was wrong with him. But he was fine, right? 

**— 2 September 1995 —**

He was _not_ fine, so it seemed. Of all the days where he had to wake up so queasy everything came up the second he kneeled over the toilet bowl, G-d had to choose _today_ , despite having seemed like a rad dude when they met in Heaven. It wasn’t a pleasant ordeal to take place on _any_ day but today was Ted’s birthday and being any amount of sick would throw a real wrench in his plans. Waiting for his stomach to pacify, he rested his chin atop the cold porcelain and crossed his arms in his lap, running through the agenda he had already arranged and trying to figure out what could be cut if completely necessary. Breakfast that wasn’t junk food was a _must_ , regardless of whether Bill himself would be able to stomach it for very long, so there was no way in Hell— or Death’s pale ass— that he was going to scrap that; lunch and dinner could be amenable, so long as _Ted_ was happy with any substitutions for those. However, his biggest surprise was also a no-go in the scrapping game, so he deeply exhaled before spitting out a large wad of saliva that had built up in his throat and watched the previous contents of his stomach swirl away. 

Opting for a cold shower wasn’t, perhaps, the greatest idea in retrospect, as all of the nerves surrounding his spine lit up in a weird tingling pain as soon as the water hit his back but he couldn’t have cared less, scrubbing his mouth and even brushing his teeth while he was in there so they’d feel less gross. He was in the middle of pulling on his 1990 “Seeds of Love” tour shirt when Ted’s eyes slowly opened, rapidly flicking up and down to take in Bill’s outfit so far, only lingering on his ever so slightly convex abs for a moment before the t-shirt hid them. When they were gone, his eyes closed again and he made no move to unpress his face from the mattress or get up in any sense of the word, which meant Bill would have to come to him, but he didn’t entirely mind, squatting by the side of bed with a soft smile. 

“Good morning,” He cooed, kissing the cheek that was nearest to him, “Happy birthday, bud.” 

Ted grumbled something unintelligible and rolled onto his back, holding his arms open for Bill to slot in. Bill chuckled under his breath about how needy he was, not being the first occurrence of Ted wanting early morning affection over the past few months, but indulged him anyway, not at all opposed to any of the cuddles or kisses, especially when Ted melted in his arms and appeared like he would be purring if he was a cat. Like said cat, he delicately butted their foreheads together out of affection as he sat up upon feeling his stomach growl. 

“What’s for breakfast, dude?” He asked mid-yawn, pulling back one of his arms to rub his eyes. 

“I was thinking Mr. D’s,” Bill answered, brushing away some of the hair that had fallen in Ted’s face, “It’s been a while since we’ve been in.”

“Excellent!” Ted exclaimed as he jumped up, nearly bowling Bill over, and started glancing around for fresh clothes to throw on. 

Bill just beamed at him and crawled across his own bed to look for his green flannel in case the diner was cold compared to the hot weather that was still persisting, despite it supposed to be nearly autumn. The chain’s La Verne location was only a few minutes outside of San Dimas so they were happy to get through a couple of songs off of _Pyromania_ on the drive over, jamming out to Joe Elliott’s vocals so hard their voices went a little hoarse until they could sip some orange juice before they ordered. They got saddled with a brunette waitress who, funnily enough, looked a bit like a combination of Joanna and Elizabeth, leading them to share the thought of jokingly asking the girls later if they had a secret sister. Though, she was a little more complacent than the pair of them, seeming as though she had better things to do than work at her part time job on a weekend, something the boys _completely_ understood. They made their order quick and simply, Ted ordering his usual chili cheese omelette with a side of bacon and sausage, and Bill a dull bowl of oatmeal. 

“But, dude, you _hate_ oatmeal.” Ted pointed out as soon as Evelyn, the waitress, stepped away. 

“I _knowwww_ ,” Bill whined, defeatedly hanging his head, “But I didn’t want to savor an _excellent_ breakfast burrito only for it to come back up later.” 

Ted pouted on his behalf, reaching for the hand Bill had on the table and caressing the back of it, still feeling terrible that he was sick with something they weren’t sure of and that he wasn’t sure of what other things he could do to help. But, it was a nice enough treat to witness Bill’s small smile as he enjoyed a bite of offered omelette, which was _much_ more triumphant than the cinnamon oatmeal by a long shot. On their way out, Ted was still wincing and clutching his reddened hand, smacked in the heat of the scramble to grab the bill (“It is your _birthday_ , dude. You’re banned from paying.”) As an apology, Bill kissed the slap mark before they got in the van to stop by the mall to peruse any new albums that came out in the past few months, like The Presidents of the United States’ self-titled debut album or _Pet Your Friends_. Normally the poignant smell of Abdul’s grey carpeting and the plastic CD cases was comforting but this time, it hit Bill so furiously— and at a bad angle that was rubbing him the wrong way— that he paused in the doorway and pressed his nose into Ted’s shoulder when he bounced back to Bill’s side by way of their intertwined hands.

“You good?” Ted questioned, peering over his shoulder.

After a moment, Bill nodded and they proceeded onward, glued to Ted’s side the entire time, as if he needed protection from an assailant they couldn’t see. Noticing that Bill was going a little green in the face, Ted made sure to cut that trip short, offering to walk around the rest of the mall instead, leading them to wander around aimlessly, peeking their heads into stores but ultimately deciding they were too overwhelming, until they eventually ended up at the food court. Bill couldn’t bear the thought of eating right now, so he balled the end of his flannel over his hand and blocked his nose while Ted stuffed his face with lo mein, flashing apologetically glances every couple of minutes to share his sympathies. There was only a fifth of noodles left when Bill finally caved and stood up, shaky on his feet and stabilizing himself by putting his hands on the table. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” He announced weakly, looking to Ted as if he needed approval. 

“I’ll wait for you outside the door after I finish, then.” Ted nodded, shoveling another forkful into his mouth. 

After he threw away the emptied container, he ambled toward the bathrooms’ corridor, resigned to stand outside until Bill came out and rejoined him, but pained noises that could be heard from within signalled to him that he should go in and investigate. Sure enough, the sounds were worse inside, covering his ears so there would be less of a shiver down his spine, and glimpsing in the door-to-floor openings of the stalls to check for shoes and only finding one pair— Reebok Pumps. Knowing their owner quite well, he sighed and flattened his shoulder to the frame of the next stall over, crossing his arms against his chest as he waited for the cacophony to cease and their maker to slink out. Apparently, Bill had heard him come in over his own commotion, because he gingerly flushed his mess and shuffled towards the sinks, only making brief eye contact through the mirror. His eyes were a smidge red and his cheeks were a rosy pink, bright against his washed out skin, one hand gripping the edge of the middlemost sink and the other wiping at his mouth and nose. 

“And _that_ is why I did not want to waste a burrito.” He laughed meekly, turning on the faucet to properly wash his mouth. 

Ted just stayed where he was with flat-lined lips and furrowed brows, trying to think of what would be comforting to say in return. Bill, not really expecting an answer in the first place, scrubbed his entire face down— as a precaution, you know— and patted it dry with a double layer of paper towels, visibly shuddering when he took a good look at himself. Balling up the towels, he threw them out and chewed on his lip as he stepped towards his companion, trying to figure out what _he_ should say next. 

“Sorry I keep ruining your birthday, dude.” He sadly asserted, crossing his arms and nervously rubbing at his biceps.

“My friend, you have not ruined it _at all_ ,” Ted shook his head, standing to his full height, “I didn’t want anything special anyway; I just wanted to hang out with you.”

“Yeah, but… You _should_ get to do something special— and _not_ have me mess it up.” Bill flustered, looking to the floor instead of him.

“Nah, dude, I would rather stay home and watch _Star Trek_ than have, I don’t know, a party or something,” Ted refuted, shaking his head again, “Besides, if anything _I_ should be the one sorry for _you_.”

“What about my surprise for you, though?” Bill queried, worry line being drawn between his eyebrows. 

“You can give it to me tomorrow, I don’t mind,” Ted resolved, “Mainly, I just want to blow this joint right now.” 

Bill sniffed, rubbing his nose again, before snuggling his face into Ted’s chest, this time being the one to initiate a hug and squeeze his colleague. Ted, in return, put his arms around Bill’s shoulders, kissing the top of his head as he leaned down. They hovered there a little while longer before deciding it best to get home so they wouldn’t miss the Trek reruns and so they would have a little bit of peace to themselves for a bit. Falling back into the routine they had begun, Bill went to bed a little early, exhausted from all of the issues his body was having that day— only to be woken up at half past twelve because Ted had been up for the last hour mulling over what the surprise could be and had broken down, direly needing to pester him about it; Bill, instead, blew him off, saying he’d find out first thing in the morning, and, true to his word, they woke up at quarter to eight to drive to the local animal shelter, Bill citing that he remembered Ted talking more frequently about getting a pet, and coming home with a new addition to the family— a golden retriever puppy named Brody. And in thanks, Bill was showered in kisses for the rest of the day by both Ted _and_ Brody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh before i forget. the birthdays here and in the next chapter are. pulled from the fandom wiki so i don't know how right they are but it's fineeee. also _pyromania_ is a def leppard album and _pet your friends_ is a dishwalla album btw. i think that was all i wanted to mention for now. here's hoping the ~sickness~ is on a pendulum of vague and predictable before i come out and say itttt


	3. Do You Right / You Wouldn't Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a beach day and later learn what's been up with Bill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since most of the first half got written last night and i had started listening to some nirvana, i was going to use "all apologies" as a title but then i listened to ["do you right"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHf-uW68JLU) again earlier and figured the ~beachy~ vibe fit better; ["you wouldn't believe"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWyEalz11aU) is mostly for the title's phrase and how _that_ relates to the second half but it _is_ a very Them song

**— 28 September 1995 —**

“We gotta go to the beach, dude.” Ted grimaced from the bathroom.

“Why?” Bill, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, furrowed his brows inquisitively. 

Ted beckoned him into the bathroom with a simple gesture and grabbed his arm, shoving up the sleeve of his t-shirt. There, some of the veins running down his arm were a dark blue that stood out greatly against his pale skin and fair hair, as if he was a sheet of paper held in front of a light box. Bill winced at the sight and to make matters worse, Ted lifted his leg and set it his foot on the counter, making a sweeping motion to display some of the _purple_ veins splayed on Bill’s faint skin beneath his thick but invisible leg hairs. 

“Ew, _gross_ ,” Bill scowled as he held his leg against his chest to set it back on the floor, “I’m starting to look like Dracula or whatever.” 

“Or Death.” Ted supplied, examining his naturally tan skin and admiring his nonexistent arm muscles. 

“Watch what you say, dude, or he’ll bring us back to Hell and talk our ear off about him quitting the band.” Bill scoffed, stretching his back as he stepped into their bedroom again. 

“Do you really think he can hear us from here?” Ted genuinely queried, as if he was now worried it’d really happen. 

Bill just shrugged, digging through their dresser to see what swim trunks they still owned. They were more of rocker dudes than surfer dudes by a long shot, so going to the beach more than once or twice a year was never high on their list of priorities, therefore they never kept many pairs of swim trunks on, as compared to their band shirts or long sleeves to layer with. He nearly snapped his spine trying to excavate the first pairs that he found since they were so shoved into the back of the drawer, but he eventually freed them from their imprisonment among the other clothes and double checked the tags for their sizes to see if they were one pair per person. The smaller ones, presumably his, were Jams trunks with blocks of pink, blue, black, and teal, with “Beached Out” written on one of the legs, leading him to shuck his basketball shorts and throw them on with little care for his potential audience because it wouldn’t be the first time they’d seen each other’s boxers. They were a little snug at the bottom of his stomach but he contributed it to not having worn them in a while, regarding them as comfortable enough, and inspecting the bowling alley carpet print of the other trunks before throwing them into the bathroom.

“Long Beach?” Ted asked as he caught them and dropped his sweatpants. “Long Beach.” Bill nodded, searching through their shoe rack for old sneakers neither of them would care if they got sand in.

Long Beach was forty minutes out from San Dimas but, admittedly, the sea, surf, and sun were well worth the trip, especially since it was usually more enjoyable by being together and blaring their favorite CDs on repeat. In the corner of their room, next to Brody’s bed— which currently contained the five month old pup happily wagging his tail— he found their bag of collective beach stuff, hauling it out from under discarded clothes and their football that was missing a chunk, patting Brody’s head before setting the bag on his bed to make sure everything within was still sufficient, while also trying not to stare too long at Ted’s dorky one man audience show he was putting on by marvelling at himself in the mirror. Shaking his head, Bill grabbed his sneakers and sat on the living room couch to cram them on and impatiently wait for his comrade, giving Brody more loving attention when he scampered into the room and demanded scratching. It took another minute or so for Ted to realize he was alone in the room and came out to see where everyone had gone, heart melting at the sight of his boys together. Brody’s head was now rested in Bill’s lap and was apologetically kissed when he was moved so Bill could get up after motioning towards the door and earning a nod of affirmation. 

The first album to be thrown on was _In Utero_ , which was a bit out of their old school rock tastes, but it was hard _not_ to appreciate Kurt Cobain’s vocals and guitar, Krist Novoselic’s bass, and Dave Grohl’s drumwork, especially after Cobain’s tragic passing the year before. There was something warming about being able to take such outings together, even though they hung out _all_ day _every_ day, and Bill could feel what he assumed to be butterflies squirming in his stomach for most of the commute. The beach was practically empty when they arrived, only stragglers and modest groups hanging around, but what else did they expect for a Thursday afternoon? Their miniature camp was set up a few yards from the high tide line, laying out a giant towel— more like _blanke_ t— for them both to sit on and doffing their already sand filled shoes as they began to roost, immediately throwing their shirts off so they could lather up in lotion (skin cancer is _not_ excellent). However, for whatever reason, Ted snickering under his breath over something, so Bill cocked his head to glare at him.

“ _What_?” He griped, needing to know what was so funny before Ted laughed himself silly. 

“Your stomach, dude,” Ted crowed, reaching to graze his fingers on it, “I think chugging those ginger ales finally caught up to you.”

He was right that it wasn’t as flat as it normally was, marginally protruding outwards, and sitting more roundedly in his relaxed position, but one of the bitter emotions he thought he had gotten over in the past few weeks bubbled up again, irked by the content of the comment. Huffing, he lightly punched Ted in the arm, not having the words to express the emotion, only the action, but instantly felt remorse when Ted tried to rub the spot away and swallowed thickly knowing that he unintentionally caused offense. Bill’s fist slowly uncurled and he leaned over to offer a one armed hug. 

“Sorry, dude, I didn’t mean it.” He apologized, squeezing his back. 

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Ted murmured, reciprocating the squeeze.

They sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes before a light bulb went off above Bill’s head and he jumped to his feet, extending a hand to pull Ted to his. With connected hands, Bill pulled him towards the water, sinking in once it was deep enough and popping back up with curls laying languidly in his face, which caused Ted to burst out laughing. By time _he_ dove under, he arose with his own hair covering his entire face like he had caught a pile of seaweed on the way up, Bill cackling at him in return. Brushing wet strands away from one eye, he locked his sight on Bill’s outline and went for it, tackling him into the water, leaving Bill coughing from the bit of water that got in his mouth but mostly because he was howling with laughter, twisting his elbow into Ted’s chest to break away from his persistent grappling, only continuing to knock them about more. They wrestled a little while longer until Ted snaked his arms around his waist and stood triumphantly, having the height advantage out of the two of them and using it to his whim; what he didn’t expect was for Bill to swivel around and fold his legs over Ted’s hips, wiping away dark hairs from his eyes for him. 

“Would you still love me if I was a merman?” Ted asked impulsively, feeling his soul leave his body as soon as he realized what exactly he had said. 

Bill blinked at him, thumbs pausing mid-caress on Ted’s cheeks, before answering with a quiet ‘yes’ and nuzzling their noses together. Imagery of being a half fish, half man with a human boyfriend blossomed in Ted’s mind’s eye and beamed, drawing him in closer and holding him until his (weak) biceps started to give out and he had to gently set him down. Worn out from their play fighting and beginning to crisp from their lack of sunscreen, they mutually agreed to pack it up and get some food, stomachs starting to eat away at them. But, Ted barely made a dent in his loaded nachos or his Philly cheese steak because he was too focused on adoring Bill’s sun-kissed face, now fitted with freckles he didn’t know he had, _and_ the way the lights were reflecting off his ocean green eyes like sparkling sea glass, as well as his blonde locks that smelt of salt but were just as sunny as the outdoors that had just lightened them to a lemon yellow. Bill was in the middle of reaching across the table to steal some of his nachos when Ted asked him if he wanted to stay around a little while longer to watch the sunset, since Long Beach had a nicer view than San Dimas with the ocean being right there, and Bill agree as he nibbled a chip, under the stipulation they’d leave after to make sure Brody hadn’t wrecked their apartment. They huddled in the back of the van with the doors open, leaning against each other as they observed the sky and its glorious array of colors, and on the way home, Bill quietly fell asleep with his head on the passenger window.

**— 15 October 1995 —**

His memory was hazy at _best_. All he remembered was everything going dark and all he knew in the present was that someone was kneeling in front of him, cupping his face and tipping his head back to look at them. There was a lingering dampness on his lip, as if something had dripped from his nose but wiped away for the most part, and the ringing in his ears was echoing in his skull and amplifying his pounding headache. The pain was centered behind his eyes, so he was reluctant to open them, but knew it was a must so that he could get a read on the situation. 

“What’s wrong?” He muttered as he cocked one eye open, sniffing and furrowing his brows while he did. 

“ _What’s wrong?_ Dude,” Ted enunciated, worry thick in his voice, “You walked in here, your nose started bleeding, and then you blacked out. What do you _mean_ what’s wrong?” 

Bill shifted so that he was sat more upright, cringing as the cabinet door scraped against his spine, and he rubbed the back of one hand across his nose, curling the other into a fist in his lap after finding the kitchen tiles too cold for a bare hand to be rested upon. Ted had fallen back onto his heels but his face was still screwed up with concern, no doubt stressing about the sudden turn of events he had witnessed mere minutes before. There was a clenched pain running down Bill’s right side and into his hip, making him feel like absolute _death_ alongside the migraine, remaining dizziness, and a wave of nausea. Pulling his legs to his chest adjusted the cramp, dissipating it a little, and resting his forehead on arms crossed atop his knees calmed his head somewhat. 

“I’m really worried about you, dude,” Ted said softly, sounding as if he were about to cry, “I think you should, I don’t know, get checked out or something.” 

As much as Bill hated the idea of seeing a doctor, he hated the idea of continuing to feel like _shit_ and not knowing why even more, so he sighed and held out his hands so Ted could pull him up, acting as a stabilizer when Bill’s stomach lurched as he caught his balance and wobbled for a second. The only thought in his head on the ride to the local walk-in clinic was how this was going to be a hell of a way to spend his birthday— not that they had anything major planned anyway, but nobody ever asked for a complex diagnosis and a pricey medical bill for gifts. He frowned when Ted, elected representative for speaking given that this had been _his_ idea and he was the bolder of the two, placed the sign-in clipboard in his hands after being handed it by the lady at the front desk. The paperwork was _most_ heinous but it was comforting to have Ted laying his head on his shoulder, prodding at the hole in Bill’s jeans just above his knee, rather than being here in this brightly lit lobby alone. Roughly twenty minutes later, they got called back to see the doctor, the staff begrudgingly letting Ted go through too because it seemed there would be no way to pry him from Bill’s side. At the end of the hall was the office and exam room of a Dr. Kinsley, a taller woman in her late twenties with long straight honey blonde hair and dark fern colored eyes peering over her glasses as she sat waiting for them to come in. 

“Hi boys,” She greeted, throwing on a courteous smile and extending her hand to Bill, “William, I presume?”

“Bill, please.” He replied, shaking her hand before nervously crossing his arms over his chest. 

“And Theodore, I’m guessing?”

“ _Ted_ Theodore Logan,” Ted corrected, reaching to shake her lingering hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“Right,” Dr. Kinsley nodded, glancing back at her clipboard, “So, not to belabor the point but… Upon first look, I don’t see anything overwhelming wrong, or at least enough to warrant coming in, if I’m being frank.

“Fainting and nosebleeds aren’t pleasant, sure, but if they aren’t happening frequently, I can’t say there’s much to worry about, so long as you can still feel both sides and you didn’t have a stroke or anything.”

“But those aren’t the only things that have been happening to him.” Ted interjected with an elbow nudging into Bill’s ribs.

“Oh?” Dr. Kinsley’s eyebrows raised high on her forehead. 

“His stomach’s been really sick— he even threw up a few times— and he was moody for a while. Oh, and he’s been having these _wicked_ headaches and not eating our favorite foods—”

“Shut _up_ , Ted…” Bill moaned from behind his hands, leaning back against the exam table. 

“I see,” Dr. Kinsley rubbed her chin, tapping her foot as she contemplated, “I think I have an idea.”

Wheeling over to the back counter, she rifled through the cabinet below the sink and pulled on a pair of cream latex gloves, ducking in to dig out a small plastic kit from a cardboard box that was missing a top. From the kit she pulled out a rectangular object with a shallow well and an indicator bar on it, setting it on the counter as she took out what looked like a plastic scalpel and a pipette, rolling over to where Bill was standing and pushed her glasses back up with the first knuckle on her index finger. With a simple gesture, she beckoned his hand to her, massaging the pads of his fingers before inevitably choosing to prick the middle one and ignoring the hiss that came through his teeth. She used the pipette to suck up a few drops of the subsequent blood then produced an alcohol wipe from the pocket of her lab coat, cleaning the hole and instructing him to apply pressure to the area as she searched for a band-aid. Once she found one, she threw it in their general direction, lucky that Ted caught it and was going to wrap it around the finger, and turned her attention to dripping a bit of blood into the rectangular box’s well that was labelled S, adding a tiny bit of a clear solution, likely to help it spread better along the indicator. 

“Well, seems my intuition was correct,” She half laughed five minutes later, examining the test again before turning it around for them to look at, “You’re pregnant.” 

“ _Pregnant?!_ ” The boys blurted out in unison, staring at her in disbelief. 

“Blood test doesn’t lie, but you can be my guest and take a urine test,” Dr. Kinsley crossed her arms, “ _Or_ I can refer you to Lor— I _mean,_ Dr. Harkness at FPA so you can see for yourselves.” 

And so she _did_ , leading Bill to chew off his already short nails as they headed over, mind teetering on being incredibly full of thoughts and completely blank. As if one set of paperworkthat day wasn’t enough, he had to fill out more in the OB/GYN lobby, this time being asked more personal and more uncomfortable questions, like his last period date and how many partners he currently had. True to Dr. Kinsley’s prediction, Dr. Harkness was the OB/GYN they got sent through yet another hall door to and she met them with a warm grin, which only chilled Bill to the bone instead of making him feel welcome. Ted, right up on his side, grabbed for his hand as they stood there awkwardly, too afraid to say anything or come any closer to her. 

“Come on, guys,” Dr. Harkness assured them, patting the ultrasound table next to her, “There’s nothing to be scared of. I just want to have a little look.” 

Bill faltered a moment longer before letting go of Ted’s hand and jumped up onto the seat, still intimidated by all the wires and fancy equipment, but wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. Dr. Harkness ushered him to lie back, adjusting the height of the chair back so she could get an accurate reading, and lightly pushed up his shirt for him, exposing his soft and minorly bulging belly. He winced as she rubbed a sort of jelly all along the bottom of it and poured some on her imaging wand, typing in all of the necessary personal information with one hand before she forgot to input it and messed everything up. 

“Ah, it’s your birthday?” She questioned after his birth date and today’s date clicked in her head.

“Yeah.” Bill answered weakly, resting a forearm against his forehead, glimpsing between her screen and Ted, who was now hovering on his other side. 

“Well, you just got quite the present, _daddy_ ,” Dr. Harkness breathlessly laughed after a minute of pressing the transducer to his stomach, turning her head towards them, “There _is_ a baby there, but _she_ ’s also got a _sister_.”

They blinked at her with vacant stares, as if they were struggling with the calculation, and she narrowed her eyes at them. 

“You’re having twins.” She reiterated in more plain language, hoping they’d understand then.

“ _Twins_?!” They exclaimed together. 

Bill’s arm slipped down to cover his eyes and he audibly groaned, lips curling into a grimace; Ted, on the other hand, was grinning ear to ear, hands on the edge of the table to lean across his glowering partner and get a better look at the grey and black blobs on the screen. In the lack of definition, both blotches looked identical but they already seemed to have big personalities, squirming towards each other, despite being separated by a thin wall, which Dr. Harkness explained that meant they had been fertilized from two different eggs because that ‘thin wall’ was the border between their separate amniotic sacs. He desperately wanted to reach for Bill’s stomach and see if he could feel any of the squirming but he decided needing to wash his hand of the lubricating gel wouldn’t be worth it and Bill looked distressed enough over this predicament, so he didn’t want to make it worse. 

“Judging by their size, I’d guess you’re about fourteen weeks along, give or take,” Dr. Harkness supplemented into the silence, “Did you guys _really_ not know this was going on?”

“No.” Bill grumbled in response. 

“Follow-up question,” She rubbed the tension from her eyebrows, “When was the last time you had sex?” 

“Uhhhh…” Ted stuttered, genuinely flipping through his mental calendar to see if there had been a _last_ time. 

“Ah, Ted, you bonehead,” Bill groaned from behind his arm, having done the math seconds before him, “ _That’s_ what we did on July 4th.” 

“Oh.” Ted gasped as it finally sunk in. 

“Yeah, that adds up.” Dr. Harkness nodded, scratching the scalp at the base of her skull. 

Reaching below her desk, she grabbed a wet wipe and scrubbed Bill’s stomach and the transducer, leaving him to deal with his shirt himself, and typing in a few shortcuts to send a couple of the ultrasound pictures to the printer in the room over. Figuring they needed a minute alone, she excused herself to retrieve them, and Bill sat up, roughly pulling his shirt back down and trying to avoid touching his stomach as best he could. Ted was still glowing with pride and brimming with joy at the announcement, not having expected such a diagnosis _at all_ but now being so happy about it that he thought _he_ may pass out. 

“We’re gonna be _dads_ , duder!” He proclaimed as he helped Bill off the chair, almost not believing his own ears. 

“I know, dude.” Bill shivered, pulling his oversized jacket further around him to hide his figure. 

Dr. Harkness caught them on their way out of the clinic, handing Bill an envelope with ‘Preston/Logan’ written in sharpie on the front, which he gripped to his chest with both hands, and wished them luck until the next time they needed to visit. The drive home was deathly quiet, with no music or static or anything, just some sniffles from Bill every once in a while. When they arrived at the apartment, Brody happily greeted them at the door, sniffing at the envelope of pictures while it was still at nose level, and went to follow Bill into the bedroom before deciding against it, pausing at Ted’s frozen side. They both shuddered when the bathroom door slammed, Ted shuffling across the living room and quietly sliding through their room until he was inches from the bathroom— aiming to grab for its knob— but became suspended in motion when he heard muffled noises from within. Cracking the door open ever so slightly, he found Bill sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest and tears running down his face as he flipped through the pictures Dr. Harkness had given them. He became a deer in the headlights when he noticed that Ted was peeking in but he had little time to react before Ted threw the door open and fell to his knees, engulfing him in a hug that practically swallowed him whole. Bill’s sobs momentarily grew worse as he drew in a shaky breath, face shoved into Ted’s shoulder and tightly gripping at the fabric on his back, half sitting in his lap. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ted squeezed him, kissing his neck, “It’s going to be okay, dude. Look on the bright side, by the end of this, we’re going to have two _excellen_ t little babies! Imagine how much _fun_ we’re going to have with them.” 

Bill mulled it over for a few minutes before sitting back to look at him properly, cupping his cheek with one hand and keeping his other arm around Ted’s shoulder. Although his nose was still running with mucus and his eyes were bright red, seeing the corners of his mouth turned up was well worth it. 

“Yeah… They’re going to be great, right?” He asked in a hushed tone, unable to muster any volume higher than that. 

“The _best_.” Ted agreed, rubbing large circles on his back. 

“I love you _so_ much, dude.” Bill declared with a new wave of tears flooding his tear ducts. 

“Bill, I love you the _most_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a feeling this is what will make or break continuing readers, since i imagine many will be bothered by that Reveal. but congrats if you've made it this far and sorry it will still get worse! but to be fair, i actually quite like this chapter which is all that matters. btw yes i had to include "we're gonna be dads, duder!" because it's my google doc title and it's hilarious to me


	4. Daughter / Champagne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woah, the boys actually time travel! Are you amazed yet? Oh, and they have to deal with a kinda shitty Thanksgiving :-|

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright i'll admit this chapter's titles are a little hasty, just like the writing here <3 ["daughter"](https://youtu.be/RiqgTPmkfek) is a very Gender song and i was blanking on what 311 song might fit for it; ["champagne"](https://youtu.be/hALPmK93VDc) i wanted to throw in _somewhere_ and figured the. bit of resistance here worked idk. also uhhhh since it's in the first half i just mention _here_ that "будь здоровий, маля́" is ukrainian for "bless you, baby" because alex's mom is ukrainian jewish and i love writing lore about characters we know nothing about so :-) bill's mom being first or second gen ukrainian american :-) OH YEAH. also also yes boring, oregon is me making an _everything sucks!_ reference because i still adore that show

**— 7 November 1995 —**

“ _Bill_ ,” Ted whispered, bridging the gap between their beds with his body, “Wake up, dude. I just got an idea.”

“If it’s not about getting a better bed, I don’t want to hear it.” Bill groaned at the same time all of his bones did. 

“That _is_ a good idea,” Ted nodded before setting his chin on Bill’s shoulder and cupping the curvature of his stomach, “But I was thinking of something else…”

“ _What_ then?” Bill asked, lazily opening one eye and twisting his head to look at him.

“We still have the phone booth somewhere right? I know it’s a little early but what if we went back and saw what _your_ mom did when _you_ were a baby.”

Hastily, Bill sat all of the way up, forcing Ted to retract back onto his own mattress, and a panicked look surged in his eyes. Ted had always known that Mrs. Preston was a sensitive topic for him, but he wasn’t expecting to get a reaction like _that_. Noting how tense he was, he reached for Bill’s free hand, the other protectively holding his stomach, and rubbed his thumb along the back of it as a silent comfort, especially because he didn’t know what else to say, outside of the apology forming in the back of his head. 

“Bad idea then?” He queried, biting at his lip. 

“No, no… I just got a little… _Startled_ by it.” Bill assured him as he squeezed his hand. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to—”

“Ted, it’s _fine_. It might _actually_ help, ‘cause, no offense my most _revered_ boyfriend, but we are completely lost on this parenting thing.” Bill explained with sympathetically furrowed brows. 

“Are you _sure_? I don’t want you freaking out on me or anything.” Ted asserted, suddenly itching to take the idea back so they could stay here and cuddle, or do whatever else would make Bill more comfortable.

“If I start freaking out, I’ll tell you, okay?”

Ted excitedly shook his head yes and leaned in to kiss him, Bill’s hand transferring from his stomach to Ted’s neck, and Ted’s open hand filling the vacated space— he couldn’t help that he had a thing for petting his softened belly, the only barrier between him and their tiny little girls (which the sound of _their_ still delighted him beyond belief). Funnily enough, the outfits they threw on so they were _decent_ , in spite of it being the middle of the night, were similar to those that they wore the first time they ever leapt through time, including Bill’s midriff-baring t-shirt that now pushed out at the bottom because of his growing stomach, fitted with the beginnings of stretch marks on his sides even (Dr. Harkness said the girls would be about as long as bell peppers by now, but all he could think of as she spoke was how hungry he was). However, he didn’t trust the darkened San Dimas streets enough to not pull on his purple long sleeve and wrap it around himself as they stepped outside, daring to make the trek to Circle K on foot so they wouldn’t have to worry about their van getting towed or broken into while they were in the past, even if they were only going to be a few minutes to an hour at most. Lucky for them, the phone booth was still hanging around the side of the building, looking as inconspicuous as ever, and they clamored in, Ted having to hold back a laugh as Bill’s stomach butted up against him. 

“What date were you thinking?” Bill finally questioned after it had been lingering in his mind for a while, leaning his shoulders back against the glass and crossing his arms. 

“I think we’ll be able to figure out the toddler stage and beyond on our own,” Ted began to answer, phone resting between his shoulder and jaw as he flipped through the phone book, “So some time after you were born?”

“So November or December 1970?” 

“Yeah, somewhere around there.” Ted punched in the number for today’s date but 25 years earlier, setting the phone back on the receiver and double checking the door was all the way closed. 

“I don’t think time travel is childproofed, dude.” Bill shuddered as he gripped the back of Ted’s jacket when the booth began to shiver and quake before shooting through the wires of the time-space continuum. 

Where they landed was a lush green patch of land with a few houses scattered in a broken circle, tree covered hill climbing high only a couple hundred yards from the furthest house. A few _thousand_ yards from that was a lake with a small dock spanning about a fourth of its diameter, surrounded by a rocky but not steeply sloped shore chalked full of sizable stones and pebbles that would be perfect for skipping if they had more time. There was no way in hell this could have been San Dimas— there was too much vegetation that hadn’t turned an ashy yellow from too much sun and the hill was too high for their lowly elevated comforts. It looked like somewhere out of a National Geographic magazine or something, but Ted couldn’t quite put his finger on where exactly, not having been outside of California much if he was completely honest. 

“I don’t think we’re in California anymore, Bill.” He muttered, eyes still scanning around while he tried to piece everything together. 

“I’m starting to think so— But that makes sense, since I wasn’t born there.” Bill agreed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

“Oh, yeah! You moved to San Dimas in third grade, right? After.. _You know_.”

“Yeah,” Bill nodded grimly, “But before then, we lived in Oregon, about half an hour outside of Portland in a little town called Boring— which is pretty fitting.” 

Ted opened his mouth to say something but the words dissolved when from the house nearest to them a woman with sunflower blonde hair trailing down her back, clad in a short red striped t-shirt and high-waisted neon pink track shorts, emerged from inside and took a seat on the bench on the front porch, criss-crossing her legs in the seat and setting something into her lap— what looked to be a sleepy newborn in a sky blue onesie. The booth was far enough away that they were out of her line of sight yet they could see her in plain view, Ted hanging onto the corner of the rectangular box with Bill crouched behind him and peering over his shoulder. The baby’s head was resting between her knees and she was waving their hands around when she didn’t need to swipe her bangs out of her eyes, beaming pridefully at her little one, no doubt impressed with herself that she had completed the feat of bringing them into this world. The baby themselves was quite tired and languid, blinking at her woefully but making very few noises, save when they were overtaken with a minor sneezing fit. 

“будь здоровий, маля́,” Their mother laughed, scooping them back up to cradle them to her chest, “You can’t be getting sick already, darling!”

Ted twisted around when the sound of breathing ceased behind him, breath caught in Bill’s throat as he started visibly shaking and tears were welling up in his eyes— which meant that was, _without a doubt_ , him and his mom. A younger version of Mr. Preston soon came out as well, cooing a gentle ‘Hi Sofiya’ to his wife, but they ignored him because Ted was too focused on catching Bill under the arms before he fell completely onto his knees and hauling him back into the booth so they could get the hell out of dodge and make the past Prestons suspicious of their presence. Bill was still trembling in the riding of the time wave and collapsed into an undignified heap on the curb as soon as he stepped out onto the pavement. His sobs were just as terrible as those during his panic attack over being told they were going to be fathers— if not worse now, since he hadn’t seen his mom in over seventeen years, unlocking a lot of put away memories and repressed traumas. Ted knelt in front of him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pressing his cheek to the top of his head, unbothered by being rattled whenever Bill sucked in a shaky breath to let out another wet wail. Eventually he unfolded himself from his knees, arms being replaced around Ted instead, and looked at him with big watery eyes. 

“Yeah, I’d call _this_ freaking out.” Ted chuckled, trying to make light of the situation, and started wiping down his wet cheeks. 

“Sorry, dude,” Bill sniffled, leaning into his hand, “I _knew_ I was going to lose it when I saw her but—”

“It’s _okay_. I get it, man.” 

Not knowing what else to say, Bill buried his face into his neck, squeezing him tighter when Ted’s fingers ran through his hair, and they continued to sit there in a ball of emotion and attempted comfort, letting the seconds and minutes roll by and take Bill’s worries with them. Several minutes later, he unraveled his arms and leaned back, ignoring the confusion spreading on Ted’s face in favor of grabbing his hand and putting it to his stomach. There, Ted gasped at the kicking at his palm, placing his other hand on the opposite side, only to find that _both_ twins were currently kicking as best as their underdeveloped legs could manage right now, apparently distressed by Bill being upset. Bill wiped his eyes and gingerly grinned, glad that Ted was enjoying himself by playing handsy with their already rowdy girls. When he noticed he was being stared at, Ted tackled him into a proper hug, careful not to disturb the fiasco taking place in his middle, and kissed all along his face with overwhelming affection. 

“Since we’re already here,” Bill meekly spoke, “Can we get some snacks?”

Ted raised his eyebrows at the question, leading him to pout. 

“Now the babies are awake and they’re begging for food, dude.” He whined as Ted was already silently pulling him to his feet. 

“They’re going to be _so_ bossy, aren’t they? Then again, they are _your_ kids.” Ted quipped with a snicker. 

**— 23 November 1995 —**

“I still don’t get why we’re going.” Bill yawned into the hand cupped over his mouth. 

He was propped up against a pile of pillows shoved against the headboard of their _fancy new bed_ , watching Ted try to piece together a semi-formal outfit in their full-length mirror and rearranging his legs every few minutes when his hips started to hurt or his calf cramped. It was Thanksgiving and they were _begrudgingly_ attending Captain Logan’s dinner party, despite knowing it was inevitable that he was going to say something about their relationship— or _worse_ , his growing granddaughters. Ted glanced again at the blazer he was currently holding his chest before throwing it onto the duvet with a groan, flopping down face first into the mattress next to it, also beginning to question why they agreed to this. Not feeling like sitting all the way up, he extended one of his legs and patted the top of his head with his foot until Ted popped up onto his elbows and sneered. 

“Ew! You don’t even have socks on!” He howled, wrinkling his nose and playfully shoving the foot away. 

“I can’t help it, dude! I’m starting to lose the ability to reach my feet.” Bill moaned, wincing at his simultaneous backache and hip pain as he retracted the leg. 

Trying to be considerate, Ted pushed himself to his feet and stepped towards their dresser to root through the sock drawer for a brightly colored pair, to contrast Bill’s oversized brown striped COOGI sweater. Kneeling back on the bed, he set one of Bill’s feet on his thigh and rolled up his pant leg, carefully sliding on the first sock and trying to avoid irritating his semi-swollen ankle more. He repeated this procedure with his other foot before uncuffing Bill’s jeans until they were folded just above his ankles. This time Bill did sit up, heaving himself forward to kiss Ted’s cheek and mutter a quiet thank you, melting back into the pillows when he found sitting up straight to be too uncomfortable. Ted then furrowed his brows worriedly but still smiled as he looked him over, admiring the hint of his stomach poking through his sweater and the curls that had effectively begun a thick mullet at the base of his neck.

“You know you don’t have to come, right?” Ted quietly asked— explaining the inkling of concern on his face. 

“There’s no way I’d let you go alone, babe,” Bill shook his head, “Besides, _free food_.” 

“Thanks, babe,” Ted flustered at the pet name, “Are you _sure_ you’re going to be okay if he says something heinous?” 

“He can _stuff_ it if he does,” Bill scoffed, crossing his arms, “Or I’ll so—” 

“Bill. _Babe_. I do _not_ want to have to pull you away from nearly socking my father while he’s being egregious— _again_.” 

“Suit yourself, duder. I’m still not afraid to do it though.” Bill sighed, shifting one arm to pat his stomach. 

“You keep doing that.” Ted chuckled, staring at his hand. 

“Doing what?”

“Rubbing your stomach,” Ted reiterated, leaning in closer to it, “Ever since those doctor babes said we were gonna be dads. It’s kinda cute, though.” 

A blush creeped onto Bill’s cheeks and he defensively crossed his arms again, refusing to make eye contact as he murmured, “Shut up, Ted.”

Ted only snickered at him, laying on his own stomach to thrust Bill’s sweater up towards his chest, placing his hands on his sides and kissing the center of his bump before laying his cheek in the spot. The skin was hot to the touch, likely from the sweater’s insulation, and he closed his eyes, soothed by the warmth and subtle movements of the girls. They were each about ten inches long from head to toe now and ever the active type, wiggling around every time their dads sat down to play music as if they were dancing along. Ted didn’t know a _whole_ lot about babies but in his mind’s eye, they were looking like tiny versions of Bill and himself— making him wonder if they would look like a mixture of their fathers or take after one parent over the other. In any case, he suddenly felt very sleepy using Bill’s soft stomach as a pillow and having blunt nails raked against his scalp, making him glad that he didn’t have to worry about family dinner for another few hours. 

It seemed like some time during his nap, Bill had fallen asleep as well, softly snoring above him, and Brody had crawled his way into bed, although he knew he technically wasn’t allowed up there. All of Ted’s bones creaked as he got up, brain hazy with sleep and a bright red mark staining both his cheek and Bill’s stomach. The alarm clock on their newly purchased night table read 4:45, which meant they still had an hour before they needed to be at his dad’s, but he needed to get himself functioning again first and get Bill situated with whatever he needed help doing, assuming he could even wake him up. Bill sleepily scowled when he was gently shaken at the shoulders, falling into Ted’s arms and hugging his waist. Ted shifted his sweater back down for him before propping him up to panic about his own outfit a little more, preferring not to get yelled at by his dad for not wearing something nice yet not wanting to dampen his personal style by doing so. 

“If you really wanted to, you could wear that button-up and those green capris.” Bill suggested as he covered his hand with his sleeve and rubbed his eye. 

Ted’s eyes lit up as he pieced it together in his head, doffing his slacks even before he had sifted through the closet for the capris, Bill covering his mouth so he didn’t audibly laugh at

Ted’s long but not graceful legs and Snoopy boxers. Luckily, Snoopy was soon covered again with fabric and Ted picked up each of his legs individually to fiddle with the ties at the bottoms of the pant legs. Glancing in the mirror, he narrowed his eyes, feeling that something was still off, so Bill beckoned him over and rolled up his sleeves for him, light-heartedly berating him for being ‘a doofus who could never get it right’. Face flushed, Ted stared at him for a moment, heart skipping a beat at the intimacy of being helped with his clothes, and stooped to snake his arms around his partner, kissing from his neck to his jaw— although, it was admittedly somewhat hard to do so because Bill was too busy giggling at the tickle of fresh facial hairs that hadn’t been shaved yet. But, Ted’s chest was too warm with love to care much, especially when Bill’s fingers lightly grazed the edges of his face to push away fallen strands of hair. 

In spite of his feet being kicked up on the dashboard, Ted could tell Bill was nervous from the way he bit at the recent growth of his nails, completely ignoring the chipped polish on them that had originally served as a way to get him to break the habit. They were both trying to look on the bright side that it would only be a couple of hours and they’d get to see family members like Deacon— who was just settling into his second year of college— but it didn’t stop them from dreading being around Captain Logan and whatever he might needle them about this time, equally shuddering at the thought of the nastiest things that could come out of his mouth. Bill was turning a little green at the fake scenarios churning in his head, but he managed to shake himself of them and psyche himself up several minutes after they parked at the edge of the driveway, coming around the front of the van and clinging to the back of the cardigan Ted brought in case he was going to get cold. Ted’s hand shook as he pressed the doorbell and he instantly froze as the door opened to reveal his father. 

“Ah, Theodore! So you actually came.” Captain Logan said, as if he was surprised by his son being there. 

“Hi, dad… Sir.” Ted feigned a smile, heels grounding into the concrete. 

Hearing a sniff from behind Ted’s shoulder, Captain Logan stretched to his full height to peer over it, sighing with a small, “Hello, Wilh...iam,” gritted through his teeth.

“Hi Captain Logan Sir.” Bill meekly greeted, giving a small wave. 

“Deacon and Missy are waiting in the living room for you… Two.” Captain Logan gestured, stepped back to let them in. 

“Ted!” Deacon exclaimed, jumping off the couch to hug him. 

“Hello little brother.” Ted grinned, giving him a reciprocating squeeze. 

“Hi, Bill.” Missy called from her corner of the sofa, not wanting to ruin her lounging just yet by getting up. 

“Hey, Missy— _Mrs. Logan_.” Bill replied before falling into a side hug with Deacon. 

It was evident that Deacon immediately noticed something was up with his stomach but chose to say nothing, likely knowing that a freak out would ensue if he did. The oven timer soon beeped and everyone gathered at the table in awkward silence while Captain Logan brought the turkey to the table and started carving it, delegating the first piece to himself and working his way around the table, purposely coming to Bill last. But Bill wasn’t entirely bothered by it, ignoring the act of distaste by piling large rations of green bean casserole and stuffing onto his plate, fighting the urge to reach beside him and intertwine hands with Ted. He did his best not to cringe when Captain Logan insisted on saying grace, once again not understanding Christians for the _life_ of him. Putting _that_ aside, he began to pick at his food, trying to be polite and not scarf it down, even though his stomach was on the verge of growling— it wasn’t his fault he was eating for _three_ instead of just one. Thankfully, Ted glancing over at him every so often with a soft smile was enough to satiate him from going insane. 

“So, Theodore,” Captain Logan cleared his throat halfway through the meal, “I asked Deacon about school prior to you getting here, so I have to ask if you’re holding down a _proper_ job now.”

“Uh, yeah…” Ted responded, nearly dropping his fork. 

“Where?”

“Abdul’s Records. At the mall.” 

“That’s… Respectable _enough_ ,” His father grimaced, “And you, William?”

“I pick up shifts from various stores in the mall from time to time. Sir.”

“Mhmmm,” Captain Logan hummed over a sip of cider, “But mostly you do nothing but sit around eating junk food?”

“Hah, you could say that.” Bill nervously laughed, shifting in his seat so his stomach didn’t stick out as much. 

The return to dead silence was beginning to sour his stomach— almost as badly as when he got morning sickness on the daily— and he poked at his plate less and less until he found a socially appropriate time to fall in line with the others and clean up, trying not to feel _too_ remorseful about wasting food. The tension was carried into the living room as everyone sat down in their respective pairs, leaving Deacon wishing he had actually invited his roommate so he wouldn’t have to sit alone between his dad, stepmom, brother, and his brother’s best friend; meanwhile, _Bill_ was wishing that he was anywhere but there, suffocating under the weight of things unsaid and darkness creeping behind his eyes while _still_ imagining what they could be. Missy’s warm smile did little to help his nerves, only making him feel worse that she had gotten used to this life and could be no source of comfort in trying to survive this. As much as he already loved them, he was about to damn his baby girls for keeping him from being able to slip into the bathroom and slip through the window— except he also wouldn’t exactly dare to leave _Ted_ alone, regardless of whether or not he was carrying their twins. After about ten more painful minutes, Missy proposed playing some board games to lighten the mood, and in the scramble for everyone to get up to look at the games in the top of the hall closet, Bill found his chance to slip out of the front door. He had a feeling Ted would eventually— or instantaneously, he wasn’t quite sure— realize he was gone so he didn’t bother to look up when he heard the door open.

“Dude, what happened?” Ted asked with furrowed brows.

“ _Sorry_ ,” Bill muttered, wiping his nose and pressing a hand directly to his stomach as he took a deep breath, “Being in there with your dad was starting to _kill_ me so I had to step out.”

“Bill, we can leave if you’re _that_ uncomfortable.” Ted offered, crossing his arms and taking a stance that read ‘I wish you said something sooner’— which was, frankly, making Bill _more_ sick.

“No, no, it’s fine. I just— I just need some air for a minute.” He assured him, wagging his hands defensively. 

“ _Bill_ ,” Ted repeated in a stern tone he had never heard, “I am _not_ going to let you suffer through this, for your sake _and_ the babies’.”

“Ted…” Bill murmured, at a loss of words and growing choked up. 

“I just need to grab my jacket—”

Before he could turn around, Bill caught his wrist and pulled him in, standing on his tiptoes to reach the right height to kiss him and threading his hands into his hair. Ted grinned against his lips, placing one arm around his back and setting the other on his hip, bending so Bill didn’t have to strain so much. They knew they could probably be seen from the front window but it was insignificant because the family could think whatever it wanted to about them and it would be of no consequence to them. They held on for a moment longer before Bill’s leg cramped and he decided it’d be better to go wait in the van and massage it away. Remembering about his coat, Ted _finally_ turned around to go back and retrieve it, wondering how he was going to explain their absence, when Deacon appeared with said coat in hand and closing the door tightly behind him. 

“Deacon—”

“Don’t worry, they didn’t see anything.” Deacon consoled him as he handed over the cardigan. 

“ _Excellent_.” Ted sighed, genuinely relieved. 

“He’s going to be okay, right?” Deacon questioned, squinting at the van. 

“Yeah, he’ll be alright,” Ted nodded, “Especially after he— Oh, I totally forgot to tell you?”

“Hm?”

“You’re gonna be an uncle, dude!” Ted beamed, not having lost the charm of saying it. 

“ _Ohhhh_.” Deacon uttered as he put two and two together. 

“Yeah! You’re going to have the raddest little nieces.” Ted asserted, butterflies fluttering in his stomach just thinking about it.

“Look, I’ll cut you a deal,” Deacon raised his brows and extended his hand, “Mail somes pictures of them to my dorm after they’re born and I’ll go deal with dad.”

“Oh most _definitely_ , dude,” Ted shook his hand, “Thank you, my _esteemed_ little brother.”

When he made it to the van, he found Bill sitting in the passenger seat with his feet up on the dash again, tracing lines and shapes onto his stomach to see if he could get either of the girls to kick him over it. Realizing who would be better company and excited to hear the announcement, Ted happily gasped as he clamored into the driver’s seat. 

“Dude! We should go tell the princesses!” He blurted out, quite proud of his train of thought.

“Oh, yeah. It’s been a while since we’ve hung out with them anyway.” Bill agreed.

It felt weird to show up to the princesses’ house uninvited but they were as friendly and inviting as ever, offering to make them lemon tea and hot chocolate as well as giving them a cozy blanket that Bill promptly nested in, curled into Ted’s side and languidly sipping his tea. In fact, the accommodations were _so_ nice, they almost forgot to mention that Elizabeth and Joanna were soon to be Aunties Liz and Jo, making the girls squeal with glee and be glad to now have an excuse to learn how to knit and crochet, already brainstorming what kinds of clothes to make for their ‘nieces’. After the cumbersome visit to his dad’s, Ted finally felt at peace, with a pleasant sweetness in his stomach and his tired boyfriend pressed up against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally i was going to give the princesses dialogue but Am Tired and i just wanted to finish writing this chapter finally (sorry that the second half is so rushed because of that). also uhhhh deacon's probably studying criminology but i choose to ignore the cop occupation in face the music <3 and i made him like six years younger than ted, so he's like ~19, almost 20 here??? anyway. say thank you to the princesses for your rights :-)
> 
> **edit:** TOALLY FORGOT TO MENTION TED'S THANKSGIVING OUTFIT IS BASED ON [THIS PHOTOSET](https://cinematic-portraits.tumblr.com/post/172519009523/keanu-reeves-photographed-by-karen-bystedt-1989) WOOPS

**Author's Note:**

> i told you it was rough... it's partly because i'm bad at properly writing characterizations and putting my brain visuals into words... but it's fineeee... also i KNOW nobody is going to understand the _72826_ thing so i am going to straight up tell you it's [the logo on tool's demo album](https://lastfm.freetls.fastly.net/i/u/770x0/57147aca1a0041439774a63eefa34ad5.jpg) because i can't help myself. also also the ambiguous relationships tag was meant for the current middle-ground thing they've got going, not anything gross (idk what others put in there). anyway, wish me luck with trying to write more of this...


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